


Maybe together we can get somewhere

by MarzipanOtter



Series: I never really cared until I met you [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Amusement Parks, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove's Californian friends, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Buddy comedy, Drinking, Drug Use, Gay Billy Hargrove, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Shadow Monster | Mind Flayer Possessing Billy Hargrove, Recreational Drug Use, Redeemed Billy Hargrove, Road Trips, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Skinny Dipping, but with feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzipanOtter/pseuds/MarzipanOtter
Summary: Nearly a year after the Battle of Starcourt, Billy Hargrove needs to get the hell out of Hawkins for a while. Steve Harrington is more than happy to oblige. What follows is a madcap summer road trip full of tomfoolery and tourist nonsense. Along the way, they encounter grimy motels, tarantulas, and the very real possibility that these feelings they have for each other? Well, they might just be more than friendship.





	1. It's a habit of mine to watch the sun go down

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song 'Fast Car' by Tracy Chapman.  
Okay, so I'm intending to write another fic explaining how Billy survived and they became friends, but this was what I have more of the muse for right now, so make up your own mind for now. They're not a couple yet, but they will be, by the time I've done with this story.

It was one unusually warm May evening when they had the idea. It had seemed an evening like any other. Or at least like any other evening Billy Hargrove had experienced recently, anyhow. Evenings used to mean hooking up with some girl to try and prove some point, or smoking with Tommy H and Carol, or avoiding Neil. Not anymore. Evenings now? Well, they consisted of either spending time ferrying Max about – admittedly sometimes being drawn into the nerds' hijinks – working late at the auto repairs shop or….whatever _this_ was.

There had been a time when the last place Billy would have thought to find himself would be here: lying back on the hood of the Camaro and watching the sun set over Sattler Quarry with Steve Harrington, smoking dope, some old song he vaguely remembered his mom liking playing on the stereo. Now it was something they did all the time. They were, having gone through some seriously weird shit, enjoying quite the awkward friendship. It seemed strange to think that 18 months ago, they’d been deadly rivals, maybe even enemies. It felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime in which this friendship of theirs had grown, amongst hospitals and other dimensions and girls with superpowers or some shit like that. Fucked up was what it was.

“Ground control to Major Hargrove!” Startled out of his own little world by Steve’s voice, Billy choked on the smoke, making him cough. It burned. _Fuck_, it burned.  
“Huh? Jeez, Harrington, give a guy some warning” He spluttered, frowning when Steve chuckled in response.  
“What’re you thinking about?” And boy, if that wasn’t the most _Harrington_ sort of question, the sort of question that came with those wide, annoyingly earnest brown eyes. Billy didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to answer it at all. He didn’t want to be in this town, not around the fourth of July, not after what he did – no, what_ that thing_ did - last summer, didn’t want to be reminded how many familiar faces would be missing from the festivities. That being said, he wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to feel like celebrating this year, or indeed ever again. Not in Hawkins. He took another long drag on the spliff, before sighing softly, not looking Steve in the eye, instead choosing to stare up at the sky, eyes huge and dark in the fading light.  
The song kept playing in the background. He tapped his foot along with it, just to be doing something. Kinda felt it in his bones, to be honest.

  
  
_'Til forever, on it goes_  
_ Through the circle, fast and slow_  
_ I know it can't stop, I wonder’_

He remembers his Ma loving this song, and how Neil hated it. Ma said that’s because it was about ‘Nam. Billy kinda got that, he guessed. Sure, he hadn’t been to ‘Nam, not like his dad, but fuck, he’d been to war alright, just as sure as anyone ever had. Only nobody saw that. Turns out they don’t give medals and that for getting possessed by shit and fighting monsters. Not that he’d accept them.

“I don’t want to be in town for it. Independence Day.” He didn’t have to say it, they both knew he what he meant. _Starcourt Day_. He didn’t want to be here, seeing the memorials, or perhaps worse, those who tried to act as though nothing had changed, carrying on life as though maybe ten percent of the fuckin’ town or whatever hadn’t mysteriously-disappeared-slash-turned-into-a-goop-monster, as if the faces that flashed accusingly in his head never existed. Heather. Mr and Mrs Holloway. So many others. Harrington, for all his merits, couldn’t understand that. Harrington didn’t have to feel that kinda guilt, didn’t have to carry it around inside his chest to match the scarring on the outside.

It seemed like hours ticked by, and neither spoke, though it could barely have been a minute or so. Billy enjoyed these times. Harrington might not understand entirely, but he knew enough to be a comfort, and that was, he supposed, adequate. But this evening? This evening the silence was beginning to feel a bit oppressive, the lyrics of the song too fuckin’ much.

  
_ I want to know_  
_ Have you ever seen the rain?_  
_ Comin' down on a sunny day?_

Definitely too much. He’d seen more than the fuckin’ rain, that was for sure. Barely picking up the damn pieces. In fact, it'd been Max, and Harrington, and all those little nerds that had picked up the pieces. Picked 'em up and stuck 'em back together into something vaguely resembling Billy Hargrove. It was almost funny imagining them _literally_ sweeping up little pieces of him and sticking them together with superglue like one of those plane kits he'd seen in one of the kids houses. It'd be funny if he didn't still feel like he had pieces missing. If he didn't have visible cracks, the odd angry line of scar tissue across his body. He spoke up then, mostly just for the sake of it, cursing his voice for being so tremulous. “Depressing song, right, Harringt-”

Steve interrupted him then, eyes suddenly shining with excitement. “You seen Easy Rider?”  
Billy gaped. Steve wanted to talk about films now? Working at that video store had really done a number on Harrington’s mind. That and the fact that this town was fucked, fucked beyond measure. He wasn't exactly sure why the other boy was trying to change the subject, but he clearly was. Maybe he'd had enough of Billy's moping. Maybe he didn't wanna think about it too much either. He couldn't exactly blame him. Probably a good thing to talk about something else anyway, he thought, trying his best to slip back into his trademark snarky persona.  
“Of course I’ve seen fuckin’ Easy Rider, numbnuts. It’s got motorbikes and drugs and tits. What’s that got to do with anything?”  
  
  
“Well, I mean…” Steve looked exasperated, an expression he wore regularly around Billy, something the Californian had to admit he felt a little smug about. “You know, they just get on the road and drive, don’t they? I was thinking, been thinking for a while, actually."  
"That must have been a novel experience for you, princess."  
"_Shut up."_ Guess that stung. He wasn't sure if he wanted to feel bad about that or not. He probably should, after all, he really was trying to be better. For Max, for the kids, and yeah, he guessed he was trying for Harrington's sake too. Speaking of which, the other boy was still on top fuckin' twitter about being insulted. "God, Hargrove, you're such an asshole, you know that?"  
"So I've been told. You know you love me though."   
"I know I'd love for you to shut up for once in your life and let me finish." Harrington was clearly getting frazzled. Billy bit back his next retort, not wanting to annoy him further. "So, Easy Rider, yeah? They just get on the road and drive. I thought we should do that."  
“Yeah, do what?” Billy wasn’t quite sure where this was going. Was Harrington really suggesting what he thought he was suggesting? He wanted to hope so, but did Harrington really like him all that much? Enough to go on some buddy-buddy kinda road trip? “Do 'Easy Rider'_?_ Harrington, they die at the end. Not really what I'm aiming for _this_ summer."

  
“That’s not my point and you know it.” Harrington was getting frustrated now, Billy noted with amusement, getting that flush in his cheeks that was almost _cute_. Only it wasn’t cute, because it was Harrington. Harrington who was his friend. His friend who wasn’t – _couldn’t be_ – into guys. “I was trying to ask, if you'd just be quiet for five minutes, if you wanted to get out of town, see some shit, take your mind off of things, but if you're gonna be like that about it..."

‘_As if my mind ever will be off those things_,’ Billy thought, bitterly, before shaking the thought out of his head. Harrington was trying to help, damnit. And maybe, just maybe, he had a point, maybe it would do him some good to get out of Hawkins, out of Indiana. Maybe even…  
“California?” Steve perked up at hearing Billy respond like this, clearly glad to see his friend actually interested in the idea. Guess Billy wasn’t the only one wanting to escape for a while after all.  
  
“Yeah, sure, why the hell not. Always wanted to see the place that spawned such a colossal pain in the ass.” Steve chuckled, a hint of gentle mockery in his voice, the _bastard_. Billy loved it.  
“You _wish_ I was a pain in your ass.” He drawled, flicking his tongue out and leering, his eyes raking over Steve’s reclining form. Only joking, of course. It wasn’t gonna be like that between the two of them. Yeah, there’d been that kiss, sure, but they’d been drunk as skunks, and gay shit when drunk doesn’t count. It doesn’t mean a damn thing, not to Harrington.  
“Ugh, you’re so _gross_.” Steve groaned, swatting at him mock irritably, making Billy roll his eyes. They looked at each other for a minute, mulling the idea over in their heads. The song had changed, that annoying Echo Beach song that had been everywhere few years back. It reminded him of California. Maybe this was just what he needed. And even if it wasn’t? A road trip with Harrington didn’t sound half bad.  
“Whatever, Pretty Boy. Let’s do it. Let’s drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that's supposed to be playing on the radio is 'Have You Ever Seen The Rain' by Creedence Clearwater Revival and the lyrics don't belong to me.


	2. Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to go, but Will and El have something they need to discuss.

The next couple of weeks were spent pouring over maps, guidebooks, you name it, excitedly planning – and indeed squabbling over – routes and things to see, and Billy couldn’t help but think this was quite possibly the most he’d looked forward to anything in a long time. Not since he was a kid, before everything went wrong. Last time he’d been on such a long drive, he was leaving behind everything and everyone he’d ever known, because of _Neil._ This time? Well, it was different, wasn’t it? This time, he wasn’t driving away from everything and everyone he’d ever known, convinced he’d never see them again. They’d be coming back. They’d leave mid-June, be away for a few weeks, have some fun being _normal _teenagers for once in their lives, then be back in time for Dustin’s birthday party on the thirteenth of July. Simple as that.

  
That wasn’t to say there hadn’t been some difficult moments in the planning of course, like when the little nerds realised that they were planning a vacation without them. Dustin hadn’t taken it well. Not in the slightest.  
“Why can’t we go too?” He’d demanded, planting his hands on his hips in a comical display of indignance. “_Billy_ is going, and he’s a giant douche.” He indicated the lounging Californian with an irritable flick of his head.  
“_Billy_ is _nineteen_. Maybe in a few years you guys can come, but not this time, ok?”  
Dustin chose to ignore this, choosing instead to answer Billy’s heckling of “Yeah, you’re like twelve,” with a raised finger and loud shout of “I’m _fifteen,_ asshole!”  
He hadn’t been impressed when the two older boys turned to him and said, simultaneously, “Hi, Fifteen Asshole, _I’m Dad_.”

Steve later remarked that there would be no need to take Dustin on a road trip, they could probably hear his resulting rant in California.

* * *

  
As the days went by, and then the weeks, the plans grew ever more concrete. He spent long afternoons at Harrington’s, scribbling little X marks onto the map to represent destinations. Chicago. Yellowstone. Santa Fe. San Francisco. The Grand Canyon. Vegas. And, of course, Billy’s beloved Santa Cruz. He couldn’t wait. He remembered the conversation he’d had with Harrington about the beach boardwalk, about his friends back home, about how the smell of funnel cake and cotton candy had made his head spin and how the screams on the Giant Dipper had always made him forget the screams at home. Ah, he could just _demolish_ a plate of funnel cake right now.  
  
“God, you’ll never have tasted anything like it, Harrington.” He’d proclaimed, smacking his lips as though he could taste the sugar on them right this second. If he imagined hard enough, he almost could.  
“We have funnel cake in Indiana,” Harrington had protested, though only half-heartedly. Billy knew the way to King Steve’s heart was through his stomach. He couldn’t fail to know. He’d seen how the other boy could put away a whole tub of pick’n’mix at the movies and still have room for popcorn, sometimes before the damn trailers had finished. “At fairs and things.”  
“Not like we have it in California.” Steve rolled his eyes at this. He did that so often, Billy was surprised they hadn’t rolled straight out of his head.  
“I know, I know. Everything’s better in California.” _Sarcasm, Harrington? _Two could play at that game.  
“Well, _duh_. Glad you admit it.” He smirked, shark-like, knowing it always got on Steve’s nerves. It clearly did.  
“_Douchebag_.”

There’d been a serious aspect to the conversations too, of course. Billy was desperate to get back to California, even just for a little while. He missed the beaches, he missed the coastal highways, he missed his friends. It’d been a long time. Near enough two years since he’d been _displaced._ He couldn’t help but worry that they'd forgotten all about him, despite his old habit of sneaking out to a phonebox to speak to them, whenever he had enough for a long distance phonecall. Now he had a place of his own, he could phone them a little more often, but he still recalled how that had been a no-go back when he lived in the 'family' home, he’d have been dead meat the second Neil saw the Californian numbers on the phone bill. He was looking forward to seeing them again, had told Steve all about them. Stefani. Vince. Pirozzi and Rita. _Leon._ Well, he’d told Steve _almost_ everything, about how they used to go to the Boardwalk, or Downtown and raise a little hell, but that? What he and Leon used to have? That conversation could wait.

* * *

  
  
Soon, but not quite soon enough for a pair of impatient young men, June came, and with it, the day they’d been waiting for. Billy didn’t want to admit it, but as he loaded up the Camaro with their bags, he couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous, and a quick glance over at Steve told him that the other boy was feeling the same. It’d been a long time since he’d been out of state, and he knew from the planning process that Steve had never really been outside of Indiana, not since he was a kid. He gave him a smile, trying to look as reassuring as possible, though he knew he didn’t have the most convincing of faces. Steve smiled back.  
  
“Sure that’s everything? Done the dickhead check?”  
“Yeah, I’m sure. Clothes, check. Tapes, check. Maps, check. Smokes, check.” He made a big pantomime of checking the bags and his pockets, patting himself down in the search for cigarettes, then taking one out and lighting it, just to prove a point. “I’m telling you, Harrington, gonna be good to get you outta this cowpoke fuck of a town, show you what it’s like to actually be livin’, huh?”  
Steve tried to glare at him over the roof of the Camaro, but couldn’t keep straight face, and Billy knew damn well that the anticipation he saw in Harrington’s eyes was mirrored in his own. He couldn’t wait. Just him and this fucker, who passed for his best friend here in Hawkins, out on the open road. Just him, and Harrington, boys on tour. Alone. For weeks. Just him, and Steve Harrington.

  
“Hey!” A shout broke the moment, as did the sound of tyres on the pathway. Max and the nerds had come to see them off. It was sweet, he supposed. In so much as Billy Hargrove ever would call anything ‘sweet.’ As it turned out, they’d come with a packed lunch from Joyce, which Billy noted with great amusement came with a sticky-note telling them it was dangerous to drive when hungry, and a last ditch attempt to persuade him and Harrington to take them with them. The attempt was not remotely persuasive.  
  
“Still wish I could come,” Dustin was pouting, still grousing about the _unfairness _of the whole thing, how it wasn’t fair, and how they _totally coulda _driven him out to Utah to see Suzie, and he wouldn’t have been any trouble at all, in fact they wouldn’t even have known he was there. Billy very much doubted that last part, somehow. Luckily, Lucas stepped in to save their skins.

“It’s gonna be, like, _totally tubular_.” He jested, adopting a truly terrible ‘Californian’ accent and doing his best to act like he was surfing, until Max punched him on the arm._ You go, MadMax._  
“I keep telling you nobody says that.”  
  
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t live for petty drama, and so Billy was so focussed on the ensuing (and hilarious) squabble that he barely noticed Will and El sneaking up next to him, until he spoke, nearly scaring him out of his skin.

“Billy, can we talk to you for a minute?” The two kids were gazing up at him, as though they were analysing him. Billy privately thought that sometimes Will looked like one of them aliens from the Sci-Fi films he liked so much, his eyes being so big and all. Thank fuck he’d nixed the bowl cut.  
“Yeah, why not. You gonna make a case for you being able to stow away in the trunk or something? Cause I hate to tell ya, that ain’t gonna ha-“  
“In private?” El interrupted him, mid taunt. Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. Not in the slightest. Billy wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. He never could refuse these two though. He sighed deeply, following them to a spot just out of earshot.  
“Five minutes, shitbirds. Spill.”

Will had been quiet lately, but Billy could tell he was anxious. They’d spent so much time together the last few months, sometimes with El, sometimes not, standing in as some mutual sort of pseudo-councillor type shit, or maybe the most fucked up little support group, Mind Flayer Survivors Anonymous or something like that. He supposed the younger boy was worried about bullies bothering him while Billy wasn’t around to sort it out.  
“Is it those fucks from Factory Avenue? They bothering you again? I can make a house call, they won’t know what’s hit ‘em.” Will laughed softly, shaking his head.  
“You know, Billy, I can handle myself now.” He supposed that was true, and it was something to be proud of. Baby Byers planting his feet.  
“Yeah, I know you can, kid. Don’t blame a guy for worrying.” He couldn’t remember the moment he’d started to care about these kids, but he also couldn’t imagine himself ever not worrying what sort of scrapes they were getting into. Fuck, Harrington really had turned him into a _dad,_ hadn’t he. Or at least the vodka uncle. Uncle Billy? Had a kinda ring to it, he guessed. Even if it was dumb shit.

This troublesome line of thought was interrupted when Will spoke, in a hushed tone, sneaking a furtive glance at the others to make sure they wouldn’t overhear.  
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m worried about you.”  
“We both are.” El added. Well, this was new. Why were they worried? He wasn’t gonna be in Hawkins. What was there to worry about? Everything that worried him was right here in this town: monsters and gates and some weird stuff about Russians.  
“Me? I’ll be fine. What can a vacation throw at me that I ain’t already been through, huh?” He flashed a cocksure grin, trying to project his old confidence, although he knew the kids saw straight through it every time. “I’m Billy fuckin’ Hargrove, monster fighter.”

Will didn’t laugh. Instead they kept looking at him, the sincerity in their eyes putting Billy on edge. “Just…be careful, won’t you? With Steve”  
Billy _froze_. Will couldn’t possibly know, could he? Was he that fuckin’ obvious? _Play it cool, Hargrove,_ he told himself, trying to laugh it off, the amusement not quite reaching his eyes. Will clearly wasn’t convinced. Neither was El. It didn’t stop him trying to get out of this sorry mess.  
“Harrington? What about him?”  
“I know how you feel about him, I’ve seen it, I think. So has El.”  
“You _like_ him.” For God’s sake. Now the kids were ganging up on him? Baby Byers and Lil Miss Psychic Powers? It would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so scary. El knew. Will knew_. _And if they knew? The rest of the Party had to know, right? It was official, his life was a fuckin’ joke. He was a joke. So obvious even a kid could tell how he felt.  
  
“You don’t know shit,” he snapped, but there was no real bite behind it, not like how he used to snarl at people. “Harrington and me? We’re friends. Hell, we’re hardly even that half the time.”  
“You _lie._ Friends don’t lie, Billy.” Hearing the hurt tone in her voice, he looked down at El, frowning slightly. Wonderful. Today was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be fun. Now? Looks like he was, once again, subject to the whims of a bunch of overzealous kids. He glanced over at the rest of the party, hoping they hadn’t noticed him getting irritable and starting fuckin’ eavesdropping or loudly demanding to know what was going on. They hadn’t, which Billy would thank every God he could think of for, if he actually believed in such a thing.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Will put a hand on his arm, calmingly. “We won’t tell anyone. Not even Max. Not until you want to.”  
“Which’ll be never.” Billy countered, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn’t care. “No point. He’s not like that. Tell Max if you want, not like she doesn’t know, just probably didn’t expect it to be Harrington.” He realised a little too late that he had only denied that Steve was like that, not himself, but realised the game was long since lost on denying that. He’d all but told Will this himself months ago, when he’d admitted that Neil called him the same things that the bullies and fucking _Lonnie_ called Will. He growled quietly to himself, finding the entire situation entirely frustrating, reaching towards his pocket to grab another smoke when El took his hand, grasping it tightly and gazing up at him with the most peculiarly sincere smile on her face.  
“He should know. He…” She frowned, as though she was searching for the phrase she wanted. Billy waited, well versed by now in her speech patterns. “He wouldn’t be angry. You think he’d be angry. He wouldn’t. Wouldn’t hurt you like…” _Like your papa._ He heard the sentence finish inside his head, although El had trailed off. El knew nothing. El needed to _butt out._

  
“Yeah, well, like I said, not gonna happen, so _drop it._” He said this with such force that he expected the kids to flinch and run away from him, like they would have done once upon a time, back when he was all bark and even more bite. Back when he was the version of himself he was determined never to be again. Not now though, instead, they were just looking at him with something he supposed was concern. “I’m…sorry, ‘k? I’m just…”  
“Not ready?”

  
“Yeah, thanks. Not ready.” He smiled tightly, before patting them both on the shoulder. “Listen. It’s nice to know you care about Harrington…and about me. I appreciate it. But I’ll be fine, yeah? Unless…”  
“Unless…?” Will looked alarmed. Billy just grinned right on back, wide as a mile, and began steering the kids back towards Steve and the Party.  
“Unless I have to deal with traffic ‘cause I got stuck talking to you shits. C’mon, I wanna go.” He called out to Steve, who was still trying to placate Dustin. “Alright, Mister Mom, get in the car. If you wanna make it to Chicago, we gotta go…”  
  
It took a little longer than was perhaps acceptable to extract Steve from Dustin’s clutches, and to make Max and Lucas promise that they’d not give each other the silent treatment the whole time they were away, but eventually, after goodbyes, hugs, fistbumps and, embarrassingly enough, tears, it really was time to go. They sank into the plush seats of the Camaro with a dual sigh, sharing a long-suffering glance, then slammed the doors, Billy immediately turning the key in the ignition. They gave one last wave to the kids, and then Billy’s foot slammed down on the pedal, and the Camaro roared to life, speeding out of the driveway and down the street with a loud squeal that was either the tires or Harrington regretting every decision he’d made that had lead to this.

* * *

The Camaro’s engine practically sang as she tore through the streets of Hawkins. _Like a bat outta hell_, Billy thought, grinning at the thought. On the open road again, getting outta that insane hick town, away from Upside-Downs or Inside-Outs or whatever it was the kids called it, away from Neil. One glance over at Harrington, who had rapidly calmed down once past the initial shock of Billy’s driving, told him that the other boy was just as exhilarated by the idea, if not decidedly anxious about leaving the kids without their babysitters.  
  
He wished he could stop thinking about his conversation with El and Will. Tell Steve? Really? The only real friend his own age he had around here? Nah. Not wanting to dwell on it too long, he flicked on the radio, immediately irritated to find it playing a slow track, soft female vocals warbling. Some bullshit about a secret love or some girly shit like that.

Well, if that wasn’t a little bit on the nose. If it wasn’t for the couple of miles between them already, he’d assume it was El fucking with his radio. He switched to the tape deck hurriedly, earning a squark of protest from Harrington. “That’s Madonna!”  
“Yeah? And?” He cocked an eyebrow, shit-eating grin firmly on his face as he eyed Steve.  
“You can’t shut Madonna off like that! She’s…” Steve was floundering. “She’s Madonna!”  
“Madonna Shmadonna. I can, and I did. Now _this, _princess, this is driving music.” Billy smirked, then, hearing the chorus approach, threw back his head in a flurry of dirty-blond curls, and began to sing along.

He was pleasantly surprised when, after a few more half hearted grumbling, Steve joined in. “WE’RE ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL! YEAH! HIGHWAY TO HELL!”

Yeah, this was gonna be a _damn good summer._


End file.
